Page 26 of Barbarous

It was vexatious to be pressed on the issue, especially since the truth was so humiliating. That she’d fled the library because concentration was impossible with him nearby; that all she could think about when he was in the same room was his face, his body, and his teasing looks; and, most of all, that the urge to do with him the things she’d read in his wicked, wicked book was overpowering.

She gritted her teeth; that horrid, blasted book she wished she’d never seen but could not stop reading. And rereading.

Daphne realized he was quiet and glanced up. He was smiling, as if he could see inside her head—all the naked images of his person crammed in there, and how they cavorted with naked images of her person, and—

“Considerate?” he repeated. “I find it very inconsiderate, Daphne. It would please me if you did not abandon either your desk or the library or any other part of Lessing Hall because of me. I assure you, my dearest auntie, I will quell my unease at seeing a woman surrounded by so many books—or—horrors!—reading one.” His words were light, but his expression was not. “If you continue to evacuate rooms when I enter them, I can only think you wish me away from Lessing Hall.”

“No,” Daphne blurted. “That is, I should be very happy to continue working in the library.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. Do you need help moving your things?”

“Thank you, no. There is not much here.”

Hugh smiled and bowed, leaving the room without another word.

Daphne collapsed on the settee with a ragged sigh. Lord. Now she had no excuse to avoid him. Each day it was more and more of a struggle not to grill him on his past—especially when the newspapers seemed to speak of nothing else. But she knew what opening such a door would do, and she had no interest in sharing the details of her own past. No, they were in a state of détente and prying would upset that delicate balance.

Weeks had gone by and she was no closer to telling him the truth than she had been that first day in the glade. If anything, she was farther away. Enforced time with him had only made her realize how much she liked the man who inhabited that gorgeous body. Behind his lazy amusement and teasing manner was a keen intellect and fascinating person. He was also a kind and gentle man who spent part of every day with her sons, who viewed him as a god.

It had taken every bit of self-control Daphne could muster to avoid following him around like a puppy—just to be near him. And now she was committed to a morning ride with him to the Dower House? A half day with him? Alone?

She closed her eyes and prayed for rain.

* * *

Hugh smiled as he closed the door to the dark little room where he’d found his beautiful young aunt hiding; as if she could hide from him.

He thought of the book she’d been clutching and his smile grew into a grin. The things the woman read must be bloody well incomprehensible to all but a few minds in the entire country. Not only that, but it appeared she read them in their original languages. He’d seen her many language books, which filled several rows in his uncle’s vast library. Not just French and Italian—subjects deemed proper for the delicate intellect of a woman—but German, Greek, Latin, and even Dutch.

“Bloody hell,” he said under his breath as he strode toward the Great Hall, his mind stuck on the woman behind him instead of the task in front of him. He shouldn’t tease her—it wasn’t only ill-mannered, it was dangerous; dangerous to his peace of mind.

Hugh gave a bitter bark of laughter. What peace? Every day he wanted her more.

When he’d realized she’d removed her possessions from the library, a room she loved, he’d been relieved. And then unhappy. And finally furious. Relieved she’d removed temptation, unhappy he could no longer sit and watch her while he pretended to read, and furious his presence had driven her from a room in her own house.

He scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair, wishing he could remove his head and shake out its contents, which seemed to be mostly useless rubbish these days, anyhow. He’d promised himself he would leave her alone and be grateful she’d begun avoiding him. At least one of them was showing good sense. That intention had lasted all of a day. He couldn’t leave it alone; he couldn’t leave her alone. What was it about her? And what the hell was she hiding? Because it had taken him only hours in her company to know she was hiding something—and whatever it was, she burned with guilt over it.

Not that it was any of his business. He should let her get away to London, but he’d taken every opportunity to put a spoke in her wheel. It would be better for all involved if she left, particularly if the anonymous letters were correct and she was unsafe here. Especially since there’d been another letter last night.

Thinking about the most recent missive made him glare fiercely just as he passed through the foyer, where a footman loitered near the front door.

“Find William Standish and bring him to the library,” he ordered, forgetting he was not on the deck of his ship.

The man shot away like an arrow from a bow and Hugh felt a pang he’d spoken so harshly. After all, it wasn’t the poor sod’s fault Hugh was in the throes of adolescent infatuation at the age of seven and thirty. He glanced at the enormous longcase clock just inside the library and saw it was a quarter past two; the perfect time for a brandy. He poured two fingers of rich amber liquid into a glass—added a third for good measure—and went to look at Daphne’s language library, as if he might know its owner better if he looked at the books closely enough.

He shuddered at the fatuous thought. Good Lord, he was an idiot!

Was this cursed attraction to her punishment for his past behavior? As if he’d enjoyed too many years of carefree whoring, and some vile cosmic force had taken note of his erstwhile happy, pleasure-seeking, and ultimately selfish existence and decided it was time to extract payment? Payment in the form of sexual frustration, a feeling he couldn’t recall ever experiencing until now. And, by God, a feeling he did not like in the least.

An image of Daphne came unbidden to his mind, her slim, graceful body, her cool sapphire eyes, and those plump lips he couldn’t stop imagining beneath his. He stared at the desk before him and visualized her on it, his hands lifting her skirts and stroking her long legs all the way up. He would take her slowly, exploring her most private places with a deliberation calculated to drive that remote look from her face. He’d tease her with fingers, hands, lips, and tongue until those aloof blue eyes melted and she begged to be put out of her misery. And then he’d fill her so deeply she’d not know where her body ended and his—

“You summoned me, sir?”

Hugh yelped and spun around. “Good God, man! Must you creep about so soundlessly?” His high-pitched voice was bad enough—but his erect rod—proclaiming his tortured state for all and sundry to see—was beyond infuriating.

Will wore his signature superior smirk. “I apologize if I startled you, my lord.”

“Sit.”